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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919375">By Your Side</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley'>The_Bentley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angst Bingo Fics [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Depressed Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, References to Depression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:09:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale should be happy now that he's free.  Unfortunately, he has a lot to work through after his break from Heaven, but he doesn't have to deal with it alone.  Crowley is there to help him get through it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Angst Bingo Fics [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>By Your Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Angst Bingo call: Exhibiting Depression Symptoms</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale stared into his cup of tea with no desire to drink it now that he had made it.  Milk added, but not stirred in, it made a light beige spot in the centre of the tea that spread across the dark brown.  He put the spoon down on the counter, walking away from the kitchenette without taking the cup with him.  With a sigh, the angel trudged back to his desk where he stared down at the book he was reading but looked down upon nothing but senseless words making the journey from his eyes to his brain.  No comprehension was achieved.  He took off his reading glasses, setting them down beside the old tome with another frustrated sigh.  </p><p>It had been like this since he realised Heaven was not the bastion of goodness he had thought it was all these millennia.  Everything he knew about being an angel was wrong.  He had no side any more, just a lot of time to spend trying to struggle through this realisation.  Still, he was thankful Adam had restored his bookshop, or he’d have precious little to hold on to, save Crowley.  The demon had been by every day to be with Aziraphale, spending most of his time there parked on the couch attempting to get Aziraphale to open up to him.  Aziraphale talked some, but his answers were always short and did not invite further conversation.  Still, Crowley kept showing up to ask how Aziraphale’s day was going, even though it meant spending most afternoons in silence playing on his iPhone while waiting for Aziraphale to finally be ready to talk about it.</p><p>Feeling fatigued, the angel trudged up the stairs to the flat on the first floor, a rarely used tiny one-bedroom thing filled with Victorian-era furniture there only for keeping up appearances.  That is, until recently.  Aziraphale, who had never experienced exhaustion before in his long life, had miracled the dust from the bedroom, enabling him to curl up under the quilt.  It dated from the 1800s but looked brand-new thanks to nearly two centuries of non-use.</p><p>Climbing in bed, he pulled the covers up to his chin, his head sinking into the feather pillow.  Aziraphale rolled over to stare out the window at the sky and the upper levels of the buildings across the street.  His mind wandered for a moment to the front door.  Did he remember to lock it?  Then he recalled he was free now to do whatever miracles he chose, no matter how frivolous, without Gabriel breathing down his neck about it.  With a thought, he made sure it was locked.  It was the last one he had for a while.</p><p>Aziraphale awoke sometime later, the sun right in his eyes as its light shone through the open curtains he didn’t feel like drawing before his nap.  Pulling the blankets over his head to shut it out, he rolled over and let it shine on the back of his head where he could feel its heat.  It would have felt nice to get out into the sunshine on this beautiful day if he had had the energy to get out of bed, walk down the stairs then head out the door for a stroll.  Maybe head out to a restaurant in the area if he still had an appetite.  Everything tasted like sawdust these days, even his favourite foods brought him no joy.  He hadn’t properly eaten in about a month now, just an occasional nibble in hopes that his delight in eating would return.  </p><p>Aziraphale felt worthless.  Adrift in a world he didn’t quite understand any more.  Every principle he had been taught since he was created had been shattered by Heaven’s response to the end of the world.  His innocent naivety had been stripped painfully from him, leaving him with no self-esteem.  What purpose did he have now?  Was what he had done all these years he had lived among the humans even matter?  What was the point of good deeds now?  He had Fallen as surely as Crowley had, only because he didn’t follow the rules of engagement written up long ago in some kind of perverse agreement between sides.  He had Fallen even if Hell didn’t want him.  That certainly didn’t help matters any knowing <em> nobody </em> wanted him, although the thought of working for Hell was distasteful to him.</p><p>Crowley would be over soon.  Still, Aziraphale did not rise from underneath the covers.  They were comforting now in a small way — warm and heavy.  Crowley would have to be a bit understanding of his mood even though he should be happy.  They won, after all.  Humanity survived, and they were free to be with each other.  So, why wasn’t he?  Why was he unable to find joy in his interests?  Why would he rather stay up here in bed when that went against his core personality?  </p><p>He was distracted by the door downstairs slamming followed by Crowley walking in calling his name.  He could hear the demon move through the bookshop itself, his office and finally the backroom before taking to the stairs.  His footsteps echoed through the bookshelves upstairs before the front door of the flat creaked open.</p><p>“Aziraphale?  Are you in here?”</p><p>Aziraphale barely had the energy to answer, but he did, bringing Crowley rushing down the hall to the bedroom at the sound of distress in his voice.  Opening the door, Crowley paused to see Aziraphale bundled up in bed, not hesitating to climb in beside him to stroke his curly blond hair.  Aziraphale’s dull blue eyes gazed at him out of a pale face devoid of happiness.  On it was etched more emotional hurt than Crowley cared to see.  While life contained ups and downs one had to navigate through, this expression almost broke him.  It was as if six thousand years of trials had landed on Aziraphale all at once.</p><p>“Oh, angel.  C’mere.”</p><p>Crowley held out his arms for Aziraphale to crawl into, allowing him to snuggle up against his chest where he could embrace him as he petted his hair.  He didn’t say a word while Aziraphale burst into tears, sobbing until he had soaked Crowley’s shirt to his skin.  The angel clung to his friend like he was drowning, the emotions threatening to pull him under as he released them.  Crowley allowed him to get it out, gently rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him.  Helplessness set in; all he could do was sit here with Aziraphale and hope it was enough.  </p><p>“It’s okay.  Just let it out, Aziraphale.  It’s okay.”</p><p>Neither of them knew how long it lasted, but eventually, Aziraphale cried himself out, going slack in Crowley’s arms, left with a feeling of emotional exhaustion despite the nap he had taken.  Sniffling, he finally sat up to rub the last of the tears from his puffy eyes.  Crowley conjured up a soft handkerchief of the kind Aziraphale favoured to wipe the tear tracks from his cheeks.  He dabbed at them, his heart about breaking to see his angel like this.  They were supposed to be happy now that they had been able to be themselves.  To be together finally after millennia of pining.  And Heaven had ruined it with its damned chokehold on Aziraphale.  If Crowley could have stormed Heaven and burned it to the ground with hellfire, he would have.</p><p>“I . . . I should be in a better mood, but it’s all come down on me,” said Aziraphale.  “Everything I ever believed in is wrong.”</p><p>“Not everything.  You believe in humanity.  You believe in goodness.  All those good deeds you did.”  </p><p>Crowley smiled, getting a small one in return.  He took up Aziraphale’s hands, keeping eye contact with the distressed angel as he rubbed them gently between his own.  </p><p>“That’s not a lot to hold on to.”</p><p>“You believe in me, don’t you?  In us?”</p><p>“Yes, always.”</p><p>“Hang on to that.”</p><p>“I’m afraid, Crowley.”</p><p>“Of what?”</p><p>“Of getting stuck in this downward spiral I’m in, but I can’t get started.”</p><p>Crowley fixed him with a worried look, concerned radiating from his uncovered eyes.  He couldn’t bear to gaze upon the Aziraphale who sat beside him on the bed — ragged, thin, haunted, looking like six thousand years of troubles had dumped on him upon the realisation that Heaven wasn’t what he thought it was.  Swallowing guiltily, Crowley pulled him back into a comforting hug.  He should have been paying closer attention.  He should have done more.  He should have . . . the list tumbled quickly through his mind as he tried to shut it down, knowing very well that he couldn’t help Aziraphale if Aziraphale didn’t want to help himself.  </p><p>He did what he could — he had been there waiting for Aziraphale to ask for help.  It sounded now like he was.  </p><p>“You can.  I’m here for you.  I can’t fight the battle for you, but I can be there to support you.  What would you say to taking a short walk around the block?  Just getting a bit of fresh air?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded.  Crowley pressed the handkerchief he still held into Aziraphale’s hand as he got off the bed.  The angel wiped away the remainder of his tears, miracling away the puffy redness of his eyes before slipping out from under the covers.  He took Crowley’s proffered hand, allowing the demon to lead him downstairs where he put on his brogues and fetched his frock coat.  Crowley took his arm, tucking it under his own as they exited the bookshop.  </p><p>It wasn’t too crowded on Soho’s streets right now, meaning Crowley and Aziraphale could take a stroll down the shopfronts without getting jostled in a small space packed with people.  The sun was warm on Aziraphale’s skin and Crowley’s closeness reassuring.  It didn’t feel too bad getting out, although it certainly wasn’t an immediate cure for his current state of being.  It was more like he had planted a seed that if he continued to nurture, gave him a chance at beating his depression and returning to a happier state.  </p><p>“Going for a walk is nice, but it isn’t going to cure me.  What do I do?  Do you know, Crowley?”</p><p>“Well, I read up a bit on depression.  Exercise helps, so yes, walking is a good thing.  Getting into a routine, which means you’re going to have to establish regular hours with that bookshop.”  He grinned at the angel.  “Eating healthy.  I’ll be taking you to restaurants that serve less cake and more vegetable.  Better get used to it.  Talking will help.  I was part of Heaven.  I know what they’re like, so just tell me.  I’ll understand.  And if all else fails, we can get you set up with therapy.”</p><p>“But I’m not human.”</p><p>“I realise that angels and demons have different mental baselines than humanity.  They don’t typically develop mental health issues.  If demons did, half of Hell would have a bad case of PTSD from the Fall.  But we’re not them, are we?  We’ve picked up a bit of humanity along the way, and just maybe that means you’re going to need human treatment to beat it.”</p><p>“Crowley, I can’t go to a therapist and talk about being an angel.  They’ll think I’m daft!  Probably well beyond daft, to be precise.”</p><p>“If it comes to that, we can brainstorm a cover story to take its place.  You basically left the equivalent of a toxic family and are questioning everything you learned from them.  Hey, that should work as a cover story.  It's something that a human therapist will not bat an eye at.  As long as you talk about the feelings underlying your problem, therapy will help.”</p><p>“You might have a point.”</p><p>“But you’re going to have to work at it, you know.  I can’t carry you through this even if I can be your support system.  It’s up to you to decide to get into a good routine or to eat more healthily to help your mind.  And you’re going to have to talk to me instead of giving one-word answers.  Understand?”</p><p>“Yes, I understand.”  </p><p>Truly, he did.  Aziraphale knew the real work would be up to him.  It was his battle, as Crowley had said, but the demon had given him the one thing he had needed to get started by being there without giving up on him — hope.  It was the start of a long struggle with many triumphs and several setbacks, but with proper help and Crowley by his side, Aziraphale worked his way back to happiness.  </p><p> </p>
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